


Open Seas

by quadrotriticale



Category: Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2003)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, hi they r gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrotriticale/pseuds/quadrotriticale
Summary: "It's beautiful out here," he tells you. You nod. "I never had the chance to really... stop and look at it before, there was always something else to worry about, some problem I had to fix, and I wasn't very good at it, you know, I don't think I was ever much cut out to be king of anything, let alone of Syracuse."





	Open Seas

**Author's Note:**

> i love this fucking movie so much

Proteus is bleeding, injured, a wreck on the deck of the chimera that you couldn't be happier to see. He's soaking wet, slumped against the railing as he watches Syracuse sink below the horizon. Smoke rises from the burning city, and it wasn't all that long ago that you could still hear the shouts on the wind. It feels to you like some long, drawn out chapter of your life is finally over- you no longer have a reason to return to Syracuse at all, you no longer have a reason to return to _any_ of the Twelve Cities. To you, a weight lifts off your shoulder, you shed some decades of baggage with a comfortable sigh. Proteus watches the city disappear with an expression that you find unreadable. You help him below decks, though, get your own clothes covered in blood in the process. He leans on you heavily, but he doesn't speak.

You always found Syracuse to be suffocating, couldn't stand the towering buildings, the way they would block out the sky or the stuffiness of air that couldn't breathe the way it should be able to. You'd always wanted to leave, you think about this while you dump alcohol on your friend's injuries and wrap them in the cleanest cloths you can find, him slumped over in the rotting wooden chair at the desk in your cabin. He's awake, still, lucid and tired and he cringes when appropriate, but mostly he watches the horizon out the window and says nothing of substance. You're glad he's here, you'd guess that he's glad too, but you assume his feelings on the city are more complex than yours. He thanks you when you're done, exhaustion hung heavy in his voice, and you help him limp to your bed. It isn't comfortable, not the kind of luxury that he's used to, but he doesn't complain, doesn't argue or bicker or say any pretentious thing you expect from royalty and half expect from him. He's not asleep when you leave, still watching out the porthole like it'll give him any more information, but leave you must. You tell him you'll be back later, and he makes a noise of vague acknowledgement.

You're disracted on the deck after that. Kale notices, asks you if everything is alright, because he _cares_ and you're so stupidly lucky to have a firstmate who gives enough of a shit about you to ask. 'It's not,' you say, watching the ripple of the waves in the wake of the ship, feeling more at home with the bob of the sea than you ever did on land, 'but it will be.' Kale pats your shoulder and tells you that you know where to find him if you need him. He takes the helm, and you watch with detached interest the steady peaks in the waves you leave behind. You stay on deck until it's dark, until the last plume of smoke from a city you'd rather forget disappears behind the curve of the Earth, before you slip back below decks to your cabin./p >

Proteus is sleeping when you slip into the room, breath steady if a little shallow. You set out some drink for him, when he wakes up, spend a second or two fussing over him before you take a seat in your chair and pop your legs onto your desk. The ship creaks quietly, sways faintly in a way that comforts you, and you fall asleep like that, stresses of the day leaving you to rest.

It takes a few weeks before he’s properly back on his feet, a little longer before he tells you he’s ready to join the crew, a little longer still before you’re sure he’s ready. He enjoys whatever stupid little adventures your heart decides you need to go on, enjoys the pillaging and the plundering and the fighting, the drinking and the week long stops in shady port towns. He doesn’t like the food, and you know that despite the fact that he won’t complain, but you don’t think anyone ever really likes the food. You think the freedom outweighs the negatives for him, outweighs the taste of copper in his mouth and the awful, peeling sunburns he gets before his skin adjusts to the sun. He doesn't fit in right away, but the effort he makes is noticed by everyone. He finds a place, eventually, and you're overjoyed.

He gets used to it, to everything, and you get used to having him around consistently for the first time since you were young, and for the first time since you were children, you think you really see him smile. He grins, he laughs, you realize that he’s, finally, genuinely happy. Syracuse suffocated even its prince. It’s open air here, thick and salty and breathable, out where there’s nothing but a ship, it’s crew, the ocean, the sky, and the will of the gods. You think, out here you can breathe. So can he. 

Some months after he first finds his way to your ship, it’s later than you should be awake, and you’re watching the reflections of the stars in the ripples of the water. You’re perched on the railing and he’s leaning beside you, long hair pulled back tightly, less clean, less well kept than before. He looks good like this, loose clothes and sun-darkened skin. He looks more alive than he ever did cooped up in the city.

"It's beautiful out here," he tells you. You nod. "I never had the chance to really... stop and look at it before, there was always something else to worry about, some problem I had to fix, and I wasn't very good at it, you know, I don't think I was ever much cut out to be king of anything, let alone of Syracuse."

"Probably not," you smile, glance down at him, note the faint wrinkles on your face and marvel to yourself that, after everything, he's here at all. "Think you always had a little too much me in you."

Proteus laughs, a soft, chiming sort of thing that eases any left over tension out of your shoulders. "I think you're right about that. You certainly weren't a great influence."

"I was a _fantastic_ influence, excuse you," you shoot back, theatrics in your voice and posture that have him giggling beside you. 

"My father would have disagreed," he replies, and you snort.

"I think he just didn't like me."

"You _did_ steal from him, Sinbad."

"...Alright, that's fair."

A whale breaches the surface of the water briefly, disturbs the star's reflection for a moment or two. Beside you, Proteus sighs.

"I really should have left sooner," he says, voice a little quiet. 

"You should've left when I did. Or maybe with Marina, that would've made a good excuse. Fianceé's running away with pirates? Could've made up something about going to get her back and then just... never go back."

He laughs, a little. "Whatever happened to her, anyway?"

"Oh, man," you snort, look at him with amusement on your face, "Gods, last I heard, she'd run off with some Phoenician noblewoman, she's supposed to be some halfway across the world by now." 

"Good for her, then. She wouldn't have been happy staying put," he says, and you nod.

"Neither were you." He agrees with you quietly.

Silence passes between you like a welcome guest. The ship disturbs calm waters, sends out easy ripples, and you let things stay quiet for a while.

“This is what I wanted,” you tell him gently, and he makes a sound that you know means he doesn't get it.

“This is what I wanted when we were kids, remember. We’d talk about- about leaving, about joining the navy together so we could sail- I didn’t want that, I wanted this.” You hear a quiet ‘oh’, from him, a little noise of understanding, and you continue. “I wanted this- freedom, you know, I wanted to be able to breathe, to do what I wanted, to- to be who I am, you know?”

He nods. “Syracuse was suffocating. I didn’t… really understand what you meant until we grew up.”

“I just… wanted this. A ship, a crew, the sea, the stars. This, and,” you pause, glance back at him, “and you- you know, it was never right without you. We were always gonna do it- whatever ‘it’ was, I guess, together. I just couldn’t stay and you couldn’t leave.”

He smiles at you, and then out at the water, watching the reflections that you were watching earlier. 

“I should have left earlier,” he says, sounding wistful, “but I’m glad I left at all.”


End file.
